


Jon Snow’s 5 Infallible Steps to a Successful Marriage

by azulaahai



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (but a gentle angsty kind of jealousy), Crackfic essentially lmao, F/M, Jealousy, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Political Marriage, fluff extraordinaire with a hint of stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:27:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26309320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azulaahai/pseuds/azulaahai
Summary: By mutual agreement, Jon and Sansa do not share the lord’s bedchamber.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 26
Kudos: 249





	Jon Snow’s 5 Infallible Steps to a Successful Marriage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amymel86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/gifts).



> Based on a prompt by @amymel86: "How about Jon and Sansa are in a political marriage. Fearing Sansa would never agree to her ex brother bedding her, Jon gives her leave to take a lover for purposes of getting an heir and then proceeds to tear his hair our thinking that she has and suspecting every man in the castle 😁" Thanks so much for the prompt ♥
> 
> please do not take this seriously lmao

STEP #1: LOVE YOUR WIFE. _While this step might seem complicated due to your complex family history and the stressful governance of your wife’s ancestral home, you will find it surprisingly easy, and complete it in no time at all._

***

By mutual agreement, Jon and Sansa do not share the lord’s bedchamber. 

Through a painstakingly awkward conversation weeks before their wedding, it was revealed that neither of them were inclined to share her parent’s old chambers. And so, as quietly as was possible (which is to say not very quietly at all; a court is an echo chamber),the king and queen in the North arranged for a new set of chambers in a different wing, and it is there we find them now: Sansa in bed, thick auburn braid draped over her shoulders and a scroll in hand, Jon, weary after a long day, removing his clothes by the fireplace.

It was odd, at first, sharing a bed, though Sansa insisted upon it; she said a united front would be absolutely integral to their rule. Jon hadn’t argued, partly because he believed her to be right, partly because he did not at all mind her there beside him in the darkness, leveled breathing and a sense of calm around her. 

He glances at her now as he holds on to a chair to remove his shoes. She is reading Arya’s letter; Sansa usually saves those to read before bed. She bites her lip, now, laughing at something her sister has written. Jon watches her, his half-removed shoe forgotten, as she strokes a loose strand of hair back behind her ear.

He might ask, of course, what Arya wrote; she usually addresses the letters to the two of them at once. But watching Sansa, still smiling, skim the letter like a child unwrapping a gift, he elects to leave her undisturbed.

***

STEP #2: PUT HER NEEDS FIRST.

***

They do not lay together, of course. 

Not as man and wife. 

Not with their history. 

He would never do her the dishonor of even _suggesting_ it.

If an heir is ever to be had (and it is, of course, as Sansa reminds him more and more often) Sansa will select herself the father, taking a lover of her choice. 

It was at his insistence that they agreed upon this solution, only a fortnight ago, after dead end discussions and mutually uncomfortable conversations. 

_They_ will not have children, of course, and now, after nearly two years of spring has passed since their wedding, the court is becoming restless. 

Jon trusts Sansa, then, to do as she thinks best; to choose a father to their heir, when she thinks the time has come.

And he _does_ \- actually, breathtakingly.

Trust her.

It’s everyone else he seems to have trouble relying on.

***

STEP #3: TELL YOUR BELOVED WIFE: ”TAKE ALOVER, BELOVED WIFE! _I’m not at ALL a person prone to jealousy, angst and feelings of inferiority, so this should work out great, hun! See you at home!”_

***

The arrangement has had unfortunate side effects. 

In theory, Jon knows that his wife would not take a lover without telling him, out of both political and personal courtesy. In theory, he knows that she is unlikely to select a close friend or nobleman, to ensure no conflicts of interest in the future. In theory, he knows that she would inform, perhaps even consult him, before making a decision.

But in the flesh, it’s harder to remember.

The men of the court have become walking, talking score boards to him: he sees their advantages as potential lovers and fathers rather than their faces. When Sansa nods thoughtfully and sincerely thanks a young lord for his counsel, Jon thinks; _young. Handsome. Eager to prove himself. Northerner; his children would have Northern blood._ When Sansa laughs at a comment made by a wildling leader at the feast table, Jon thinks; _discrete. Makes her laugh. Could have diplomatic advantages._ Even in situations he _knows_ to be utterly benign, like when she spends an hour or two with Maester Sam in the library, he can’t quite stop a secluded corner of his mind from going: _from a great house. Gentle. Trustworthy; would never say a word._

The thoughts leave a sour taste in his mouth.

It’s not that she would be bedding another, in itself (it isn’t! He tells himself. It _isn’t_ ) or indeed that he does not trust her judgement in this matter, as he trusts her in every other matter. It’s an odd mixture of concern and fear and something else, something he dare not name, something stubborn and aching and raging and -

And we are back in their chambers, a fortnight since they first agreed upon the arrangement. In the bed, Sansa has finished reading Arya’s letter, offering Jon, who has just sat down beside her, to do the same. He declines with a soft, almost whispered ”tomorrow”, and crawls beneath the furs. Out of the corner of his eye, he can sense her gaze upon him.

Sansa does this, at times. Watches him intently, deep in thought, long moments of her eyes attached to him when she thinks he cannot tell. Often it means there is a matter she wishes to speak to him about, but there’s no use in rushing her. From experience, he knows that were he to ask her now, she would smile and shake her head and claim that it is nothing. When she is ready, she will bring it up herself. 

So many little truths he has come to know of her.

He turns, then, to blow out the candle, when she places a hesitant hand on his arm.

The touch is so sudden and uncommon that Jon freezes, the feeling of her fingers through his nightshirt all he can sense, all he can think -

”Jon.” Her voice somehow both soft and hoarse. ”I think there’s something we should discuss.”

***

STEP #4: STUPIDLY FEEL STUPID AS YOU REALIZE YOU HAVE BEHAVED VERY, VERY STUPIDLY.

***

”Is this about the … our … what we said of the … heir?” he asks as he cannot stop himself from asking, his tongue and his brain are completely separate entities _(the warmth of her hand through the fabric)_ -

”Yes”, she says and she sounds oddly calm, at least in contrast to his racing heart. ”Or, not so much the heir, I must confess, but rather the conceiving of said heir.”

”Oh.” _Oh_.

”You see … It’s been bothering me since our … last discussion …” Her tone now more hesitant. If one did not know her as he did, one might not detect the slight tremble to her voice.

_It’s been bothering me too_ , he does not say.

”… I just … I’m more aware than anyone of the need for an heir. But what we discussed … me, taking a lover …” Odd, to hear that word out of her mouth. Her mouth seems to agree as she presses her lips together. Nevertheless, she continues.

”… securing an heir for the North, that’s a political matter. But taking a lover and conceiving a child … is a personal one. And after much consideration, I don’t think I could commit to it.” She looks away, her eyes firmly on the fireplace across the room, the gentle light setting her hair aglow.

_Of course,_ he wants to say, _I understand, damn them all to the seven hells, do as you wish, I -_

”There’s only one man on which I’d entrust such a task, Jon.” 

Her voice is clear now, strong, but still she refuses to look at him.

His body stiffens, ready to take a lethal hit.

”I don’t want to take a lover, Jon. I think we should conceive an heir ourselves.”

And then she looks up and meets his eyes.

***

STEP #5: SEE STEP 1.

**Author's Note:**

> Still taking prompts at my tumblr, @azulaahai there as well ♥


End file.
